


North Wind

by Hedgebelle (Ahaanzel)



Category: Batman - All Media Types, The Batman (Cartoon), Under the Red Hood, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Chocolat (2000) Fusion, Bruce Wayne Tries, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Canon What Canon, Character Study, Crime Boss Jason Todd, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Everyone Loves Dick Grayson, Family Secrets, Hot Chocolate, Jason Todd Loves Dick Grayson, Jason Todd Swears, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason Todd is Robin, M/M, Magical Realism, North Wind - Freeform, Pining, Romani Dick Grayson, Self-Indulgent, The Author Regrets Everything, Timeline What Timeline, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:40:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23244157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ahaanzel/pseuds/Hedgebelle
Summary: In which Jason learns there is more to Dick Grayson than meets the eye. Or, in which characters are studied and heritage is explored. Or, magical realism and vigilantes shouldn't mix and this is why. And also, the author is self-indulgent and regrets everything.Loosely inspired by "Chocolat".
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd
Comments: 24
Kudos: 359





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Let's get one thing straight. With the exception of few animated films and cartoons, I know nothing about DCU.  
> Oh, and also, I am not a native English speaker :).  
> This fanfic is loosely inspired by the film "Chocolat", but you don't need to know it to understand the story.  
> Enjoy! (I hope.)

“Here,” Jason grumbled and somewhat rudely pressed a paper coffee cup into Nightwing’s hand.

They were sitting on the edge of a rooftop watching cops on the street below bring in a bunch of thugs. Catching those thugs and handing them to the justice was supposed to be Jason’s job and Jason was doing said job just fine, thank you very much. He had the whole situation under control, seriously, he did.

But then, just as he was handling it so well, who decided to suddenly show up?

Nightwing.

Nightwing, who – and Jason couldn’t stress it enough – had absolutely no business being there, what with him blowing everyone (Jason) off and running away from Gotham any chance he got, be it for a Young Justice mission or getting into college. Yet there he was, swooping in and saving the night and having Batman fucking smile at him like Christmas had come early. To add insult to injury, even the thugs cheered at the sight of Nightwing, like they would rather have their butts kicked by the _original_ boy wonder than the actual Robin.

(Though it might have been more of a leer than a cheer that the thugs did.)

Jason was so pissed off. And yet.

Nightwing – no, not Nightwing, he took his domino off, so it was just Dick Grayson now with his pretty face and blue, blue eyes. Dick looked at the offered cup, eyebrows raised, then brought it to his lips and took a small sip. “It’s hot chocolate!” he exclaimed, surprise colouring his voice.

Correction: it was very shitty, overly sugary and by now surely lukewarm chocolate-in-the-name-only kind of drink, bought in a convenience store around the corner. Jason was sure that whatever this thing was made with, was never even stored in the same room as the actual cocoa beans. Which was fine with him, but now that he thought about it, a rich boy like Grayson would probably get indigestion just from that one sip.

His lips thinned in annoyance at the thought of expensive taste buds and Big Bat chewing Jason out for poisoning his golden child. Yep, he shouldn’t have brought Grayson anything at all, because somehow he managed to screw up even that. Kindness was better left off to the trust fund kids, not street rats like Jason himself. Really, at fifteen he should have already known better.

…But then again, it was a cold night out, Nightwing’s suit was somewhat thin to accommodate all the aerial stunts, and unlike Jason, Dick had to be up in few hours, taking his economy midterm back at college and WHATEVER, it’s not like Jason _cared_ or something. Shut up.

Dick took another careful sip and smiled to himself. Ashamed, Jason felt his cheeks grow hot. _It’s a smile, not a sneer_ , a rational part of his brain pointed out, but anger was already rearing up its ugly head.

“Not to your liking, your highness?” he mocked, trying to hide the hurt.

Dick snapped his head up. He had the gall to look honest to god surprised at Jason’s words.

“Oh, no! Nothing like that!” he was quick to assure.

Jason narrowed his eyes. He knew the chocolate was garbage, okay? There was no need to deny the truth, but there was no need to rub it in either.

“It’s just, it’s been a long while since I had hot chocolate,” Dick smiled at the cup and stirred its content. “And it remained me of something my mother mentioned my great-grandmother often saying.”

Oh.

Now Jason felt ashamed and oddly chastised.

The thing is, when Bruce Wayne, famous billionaire, Gotham’s most eligible bachelor and playboy extraordinaire first announced his decision to adopt an orphan of Romani descent, raised and home-schooled in a traveling circus (meaning, without formal education), who didn’t even speak English as his first language, all hell broke loose. Media shitstorm is what it was, as everyone whose opinion didn’t matter had something to say on the subject. Few were sympathetic and drew parallels between the Flying Grayson’s fate and the Waynes untimely passing, but most choose to focus on everything else.

Even street rat like Jason cringed at the thought of what being subjected to all of that must have been like. And Dick himself was grieving at the time. But he healed. He took up his new role as Robin and grew confident in it, and once he felt ready, he unleashed his charm upon the world. Public quickly grew enamoured with the nice boy who jokingly taught TV talk show hosts a _hello_ and _thank you_ in his native Romani dialect, while promoting the Wayne Foundation new charity projects under watchful eyes of his foster parent, of course. He joined the Gotham Academy and was immediately hailed a god’s gift to their gymnastics team and grew up so beautiful Jason felt it was deeply unfair.

Nowadays nobody seemed to remember - Jason included – that had it not been for that low-life Zucco and his scumbags, the Gotham’s darling would have been leading a very different life now. And perhaps in that different life Grayson himself would have been a lot happier.

Having known Grayson only as boy wonder and a pixelated smile on a TV screen in his mother’s dump of an apartment, Jason couldn’t even imagine what those nine years of his life had been like, travelling with his family and a circus. He had no idea what that other life of Grayson’s might have had been like and that thought bothered him for some reason. He’d like to know _something_. Really, even a glimpse would do.

Jason cleared his throat. “Well?” he prompted, when silence stretched a bit too long and no other explanation seemed to be forthcoming. “Gonna share or what?”

Dick hummed, a far-away look in his blue eyes. When he finally spoke, it was like he was reciting from a half-forgotten memory, from a lifetime ago.

“The Maya believed cocoa held the power to unlock hidden yearnings,” he turned his head and now was looking straight at Jason. Boy, were his eyes blue. “And reveal destinies.*”

A shiver went down Jason’s spine.

Whatever he’d been expecting to hear, it wasn’t quite _that_ and something about those words and Grayson looking him in the eye had Jason nervous and his throat dry. Suddenly remembering his own drink, he quickly took off the lid and downed the thing in one go, lukewarm liquid cloy in his mouth.

“Thank you for having hot chocolate with me, Little Wing,” Dick raised his cup as if in a toast and gave Jason that sunny smile everyone was at least a bit smitten with. Jason has seen even Gotham’s resident villains left tongue-tied and wrong footed when given that smile. And this time, it was just for him.

Years later Jason would say it was at that moment he knew he was in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Line borrowed from "Chocolat"


	2. Chapter 2

Forehand, backhand. And again. Forehand, backhand.

At fifteen Jason should have already guested that his would not be a happy ending.

Timer on the bomb went four, three, two seconds, and Jason thought of Batman he’d never make proud, a degree in English literature he’d never get, a proper chocolate he’d never taste on Dick’s lips.

Next thing he saw was _green_.

*

Time passed.

Jason wondered sometimes. If he’d been damaged goods already in the life _before_ , then what was he now, patched together so crudely and forced back alive?

Not that it really mattered, he supposed. Shame that had always plagued him before was burned out of him by the Pit-green along with most of his dreams and sentiments. These days, he realised, there were very few things he cared for or wanted anymore, but one he still craved was revenge.

Driven by that desire, Jason found himself back in Gotham facing against the man who had once meant a world to him.

“And if you wanna stop it, you are gonna have to shoot me. Right in my face!*”

But Batman pointedly dropped the gun and turned back to leave, like it was all the same to him. Like Jason was a snot-nosed child throwing a tantrum, not worthy of his attention. Jason tightened his grip on the gun to still a tremor in his fingers, resentment unfurling something ugly in his chest.

Batman froze midstep, as if struck by a sudden thought. Ignoring Joker’s insane cackle, he looked over his shoulder at Jason. White lenses of his cowl narrowed shrewdly.

“Is revenge the only thing you want?”

_(…unlock hidden yearnings and reveal destinies.)_

Jason recoiled like he’d been slapped.

“How dare you?” he growled, because that? That deserved only a big, fat _fuck you Bruce_ in response.

 _This_ was between the two of them, Jason and Bruce. And it was about Joker, and why that piece of filth was still allowed to breath, and why his Robin’s death meant so little to Batman. How dare he bring _him_ up in the middle of this?! How dare he dangle him like a carrot in front of Jason’s face, knowing full well he’d always be beyond his reach?!

That was fucking low, even by Jason’s standards.

And how did Bruce find out, anyway? Was his fifteen-year-old self really that transparent in his pining?!

At least the damn clown got a hint and shut the fuck up.

“If you do this, even _he_ won’t be able to forgive you,” Bruce went on, words heavy with meaning, but Jason was so, so done with this.

His vision tinted green, Jason fired his gun. Batman threw a batarang right at the same time.

*

I wasn’t until later, much later – Joker surely must have been carted off back to Arkham by then – that Jason’s thoughts cleared off the green fog and he pondered what exactly Bruce had been trying to say.

With the ultimatum of you shoot him or me, he forced Batman to make an impossible choice. It wasn’t a matter of greater and lesser evil; both outcomes, breaking his code or breaking his heart, were deemed unacceptable. So Batman, ever the businessman even in a cowl, countered it with a deal of his own.

Jason wanted Joker dead, but there was something else he could be tempted with. Having realised that, Batman – no, Bruce refused Jason his revenge, by offering him his golden child instead.

Jason was holed up in a deserted warehouse patching up his wounds, when all of that finally sunk in. Empty halls echoed with hysterical laughter, because he had basically been given a father’s blessing.

* * *

Father’s blessing of no, Jason took his own sweet time seeking Dick out. Not that he wasn’t eager to see him, quite the opposite, but there were things he needed to take care of first. For one, he had to re-establish his position in the Gotham underworld. His dalliance with Joker made some drug lords understandably upset and left Black Mask’s goons under impression Red Hood had been taken out of the game. Which he had certainly been not and whole city came to realise that one Thursday morning, when Black Mask’s men were found swinging from cranes in Gotham Bay, Red Hood’s symbol sprayed on their chests.

Of that Bruce certainly did not approve, but sorry no sorry, Jason couldn’t hear a word of complaint over the sound of tax-payers money being wasted on Joker in Arkham.

Also, what Bruce didn’t know (yet) was that Jason now had goons of his own. Trustworthy men hired to help him, ah, expand his operations. Did Jason need more money? Perhaps not. But, call him old-fashioned, unlike his own father he wanted to make sure he’d be able to provide.

The other thing was him being out of the loop these past years. He didn’t know what Nightwing had been up to nor whether there was any significant other in the picture from whom he would have to seduce Dick away. Getting up to date took some time, but Jason was confident he got the gist of it.

The official story went like this: Richie Wayne, never you mind he had never renounced his parents’ name, grew weary of the glitz and luxurious lifestyle, so he moved out to Blüdhaven. There he took up an honest job as a civil servant or maybe an accountant – details on that part were rather fuzzy – and apparently was quiet successful in his career of choice, low-income as it was. Sometime has passed (it varied, depending on the source) and Bruce decided that enough was enough – meaning, daddy threw a fit and Grayson dropped everything to rush back to Gotham like a good (adopted) son that he was. All of Blüdhaven was loath to see their eye candy in a uniform go (guess not an accountant after all, huh), but what could they do when Bruce insisted the Wayne Foundation was simply not able to operate without Richard’s invaluable insight.

And so it was that Richie Wayne came back home to fulfil his duties to the (adopted) family, not unlike a prodigal son. He shied away from the media that labelled him as such, though, to the great disappointment of talk show hosts and the general public.

What actually had happened, surprisingly wasn’t all that far off the mark. Dick did move out to Blüdhaven and decided to become a cop, of all things, while still going out at night as Nightwing. Things happened, then juggling a full-time job, night-time crime fighting and increasing number of demands for his assistance from the Justice League – and didn’t that last bit have Batman written all over it – proved to be too much. In the end Dick did quit his job, but did he move back to Gotham? Nope, not really.

Instead, Nightwing was constantly on the move, going from city to city, visits in Gotham thrown somewhere in between. He would stay in new place for a while, assemble a team, or train already existing one, or take on high-risk missions for the Justice League. Sometimes he would operate under the guise of Richie Wayne, sometimes not. But he never settled anywhere. Once the job was done, he’d throw a remark about winds changing or some other cryptic shit, and be on his merry way to the next destinations, broken hearts left in his wake.

Once Jason felt ready, he hopped on a plane and went to crash Nightwing’s latest mission.

*

The guy Nightwing’s been fighting with suddenly let out a choked scream and collapsed, a pool of telling red growing around him. Nightwing froze, escrima sticks gripped tightly in both hands. We blinked down at his opponent, uncomprehending.

“What -,” he snapped his head up. His eyes fell on the barrel of Jason’s gun. “Red Hood?! Did you kill him?!”

“Nope. I didn’t shoot to kill.” He remarked offhandedly, putting the gun back to its holster.

Nightwing relaxed his stance a bit but was still wary. He was also devastatingly beautiful. Having Nightwing so close and all his attention focused solely on him made Jason week in his knees.

So, so unfair.

“What are you doing here?” Nightwing asked cautiously. He stole a quick glance at the felled opponent. “So far from Gotham.”

Jason strutted closer, pleased to see Nightwing crane up his neck to keep looking at the lenses of his hood. Between the two of them Jason was now the taller one and bigger, heavy muscle-bound, whereas Nightwing has retained body of an acrobat, lean and nimble. If he so wished, Jason was confident he’d be able to wrestle Nightwing to the ground and have him pinned down, helpless beneath his bulk.

Wasn’t that a nice thought.

“I could ask you the same question, Birdie.” He grinned at Nightwing’s sharp intake of breath.

Jason made a hand signal and suddenly the empty alleyway was a flurry of activity. Red Hood’s men were all over the place, checking on the guy Jason had shot, securing USB stick he’d been carrying and Nightwing was after, making sure there would be no trace left of their fight. Nightwing leaned to the side to watch them work, speechless.

Jason cleared his throat to get Nightwing to focus back on him. “I’d like to get reacquainted.” He said, thrilled that Nightwing froze at his choice of words. “Look,” without taking his eyes off the vigilante, Jason accepted a paper cup from one of his man and offered it to Nightwing. “I even brought you hot chocolate.”

Nightwing turned his gaze from Red’s helmet to the proffered cup, but he did not take it. Lenses of his domino narrowed, thoughtful. Oh the wheels were turning, but the chocolate was getting cold. Which was a shame, since it was expensive Belgian one, not that cheap shit Jason had given him ages ago.

With a sigh, he set the cup aside and made a quick job of taking off his helmet.

Nightwing gasped. “Jason?!” His gaze roamed over Jason’s face, taking in all the changes past few years and coming back to live have brought. Strong, chiselled jawline that was only hinted at under baby fat he had yet to lose at the age of fifteen; a shock of white hair falling on his brow; powerful muscles building under his leather jacket.

Light blush dusted Nightwing’s cheeks red.

Jason’s grinned grew even wider, because Nightwing was obviously liking what he was seeing, even if the man himself hadn’t realised that yet. Nor the fact that he was starring.

“But how -?!” Nightwing whispered, stunned.

“We’ll get to that later.” He promised, cutting that conversation short. “Now, Big Bat told you anything?”

Shell-shocked, Nightwing took a moment to realise he’s been asked a question. Never breaking their eye contact, he cocked his head to a side slightly, brows furrowed.

“Did Batman tell me anything about what?”

Ah.

“So he didn’t.” Figures.

“What did Batman not tell me?!” Nightwing demanded, growing agitated. Jason decided he quite liked him that way. Also, Dick being careful not to mess up proper English syntax, even after all these years, was way too cute.

“That is for me to know and for you to wonder about.” Jason took up the cup and hid his smirk behind its rim. Hot chocolate tasted like sweet promises.

*

That first meeting set a pattern. Jason would track Dick down not matter when he had gone and then bust into his safehouse or crash his mission, or just swoop in and steal the man away for a date.

Because that’s what their hang-outs were. Dates. Surely they were. At least, Jason thought they were. Weren’t they?

Come on, Dick _had to_ know how Jason felt about him! He had to, since the whole world already did too, most of all those green superhero twinks who had been making moony eyes Jason’s man, given they were first to piss themselves when Red Hood made his entrance. Still, Dick could be frustratingly dense at times.

But then finally, finally a glorious day (night actually) has come when it was Nightwing that sought Red Hood out, not the other way around.

He was in yet another abandoned warehouse, in his domino mask but sans his helmet, going over details of the next operation with his men, when he noticed a familiar shadow perched on a bream by the roof.

“Leave.” He ordered his men curtly, then cocked his head up. “What was it that Bat used to tell you about swinging upside down from a chandelier?” He called, a teasing note in his voice and a grin on his face.

Soft laughter answered him, as a dark shape fell from the bream, did a somersault on his way down, then landed gracefully on his feet not far from Jason. “He was afraid I would fall, but I never do.” Nightwing said with a self-assured smile he’d like to kiss off his lips.

 _But for me you will_ , but no, abort, way too cheesy, Jason would never say anything like that out loud. He swallowed his words and instead moved to Nightwing’s side. Gently, he reached out and peeled off his domino mask, because he wasn’t going to deny himself the pleasure of seeing those pretty blues. And ah, there they were.

“Nightwing. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Jason all but purred. He put his hand on the wall he’d crowded Dick against and leaned even further into his personal space, bringing their faces closer. He had Dick trapped between a brick wall and his own, towering frame, exactly where he wanted him. His lips curved into a cocky smirk.

Dick’s breath hitched, to Jason’s delight, and did he think he wouldn’t notice how blown out his pupils were? Because Jason totally did.

“Well?” he prompted, his smirk oozing confidence. It would be so easy to have him like this, right against this wall with Jason’s name the only prayer on his lips. But Jason was an honest mob boss, not a brute. Taking that one last step was up to Dick.

Who bit down his lip and looked to the side, coyly, because that was what he’s been doing, playing fucking coy. But then, he peeked up at him with some new resolve, and _yes, that’s it baby, just give in_.

“I came here to say goodbye.”

What.

“What,” Jason deadpanned.

“I mean,” Dick was quick to explain, having noticed the sudden tension in Jason’s body and how quickly the mood between them changed. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, B would be furious if he knew,” he flinched, when Jason growled at the mention of Batman. “I’m leaving tomorrow. On a mission. And I’d like to ask you not to seek me out.” He spied a glance at the hand Jason had rested on the wall, now clenched into a fist.

Jason straightened up to his full height. He knew it made him one intimidating sight and Dick did look nervous, but not coved. “You’re going undercover, huh,” he deduced, matter-of-fact. “When you’re gonna be back?” he demanded, pinning Dick in place with a hard stare.

Dick shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know.”

 _The fuck you don’t_ , Jason wanted to snarl and punch the wall, _through_ the wall, but then Dick was standing on his tip toes and cradling his face oh so gently between his palms, and suddenly that all-consuming green was gone, because he was drowning in blue.

“Please,” Dick whispered. “No matter what you hear, please remember. I will come back.” Then again, with more conviction, “no matter what people say, even if it seems impossible. I WILL come back.”

And then he was gone, just like that. Like a dream. Like he has never been there at all.

Outside, north wind was howling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Line borrowed from "Under the Red Hood"


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I miscalculated. One more chapter to go. Also, English still isn’t my native language XD.  
> If you’ve never seen “Chocolat”, I recommend checking out this short clip from the film.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3uKHZPnB-zE  
> But no pressure, this story will still make sense, even if you don’t.

Later the same night Jason got on his motorcycle and raced through the streets of Gotham. In the life before he had known the way to the Bat Cave like a back of his hand; in the life now that knowledge was a muscle memory, enabling him to pick his turns without a conscious thought.

Before long, he was speeding up the tunnel connecting Batman’s lair with the outside world. Once upon the time it would have felt like coming back home. Yet another sentiment the Pit had done away with, he supposed, for the only thing he could feel now was intense desire to beat Batman into a bloody pulp.

He entered the Cave at full speed, narrowly avoiding a crash with the Batmobile.

On any other night, it would be kinda nostalgic, Jason thought, as he quickly took in his surroundings. The Cave hasn’t changed much. The only thing he didn’t remember from before was a glass case with his old Robin suit, carefully stitched back and cleaned of blood stains, Alfred’s work no doubt. Jason didn’t want to contemplate what it being there might have meant. That was not what he was there for.

Jason’s sudden visit clearly wasn’t that much of a surprise, since CCTV footage of his crazy ride through Gotham was on replay on the Batcomputer’s screen. Then there was the man himself, standing by the Batcomputer’s console and starring wordlessly at Jason. Batman – no, the cowl was down so it was Bruce now, looking old and careworn. He guessed a sight of him, Batman’s failure of the worst kind – one that crawled out of his grave and came back to haunt him – would do that to the man.

Jason took off his helmet and stormed up towards Bruce, expecting… something. A reaction. An acknowledgement. A _good evening Jason, so I guess I screwed you over_ , at the very least, but no, Bruce just kept staring at him with an odd look on his face. On top of everything else, that inaction was seriously pissing him off.

So Jason showed him. “What the fuck, Bruce?!”

Bruce staggered back, staring at him still, like cat got his brain to go along with the tongue and that did absolutely nothing to quell Jason’s anger. Things might have tuned bloody – no, scratch that, they would definitely turn bloody, had Jason not suddenly found himself with a handful of delicate china and smell of Earl Grey Tea tickling his nose.

“Master Jason.” Alfred came into the view. At the sound of his posh accent, one that Dick always unconsciously slipped into when staying in the Manor, all the fight went out of Jason. “I see you found some time in your busy schedule to come visit an old butler.” Even with the textbook example of British stiff upper lip, he sounded like a disapproving grandfather and _fuck_ , against that Jason was defenceless. “And Master Bruce,” Alfred did the thing, the raised eyebrow of doom. Jason thanked his lucky stars it wasn’t directed at him. “Do close your mouth. We wouldn’t want you catching flies.”

 _Oh, sick burn_ , was what Jason wanted to say oh so badly, but at Alfred’s glare he obediently took a sip of his tea instead.

“Now,” Alfred levelled them both with unimpressed look. “I expect you both to act like adults and have a an actual conversation. Do not disappoint me.” He hefted a tray under his arm and without further ado he left. Jason and Bruce watched him go in silence, till he disappeared in the lift.

“Jason –,“ just like that moment when Red Hood revealed his identity to Batman the last time they’ve seen each other, Bruce’s voice was raw and eyes full of emotion Jason couldn’t name.

“Bruce.” He interrupted, because _that_ _shit_ was not the reason why he came all the way to the Bat Cave. “Care to explain why Nightwing, with whom I was getting along fabulously, might I add, was suddenly sent on a mission to god-knows where, for god-knows how long and by none other than you yourself?!” Uh oh, he was getting all worked up again. No good, he was still holding delicate china teacup in his hands, the one from Alfred’s favourite set.

Bruce let out a long suffering sigh. “Please, sit.”

“This is not a social call.” He forcibly relaxed his grip on the teacup. “We had a deal, didn’t we?! So answer the damn question. What. The. Fuck. Bruce.”

“I insist.”

Here went nothing. Jason ground his teeth and sat down on Batman’s chair, forcing Bruce to take a beaten up stool standing nearby. Bruce’s lips thinned, but no comment was made. Jason’s pettiness counted it a success.

“There’s something you should know.” Bruce spilled after a bid of silence.

“No shit.”

“It was after I signed the adoption papers, but before I brought Dick to the manor.”

In spite of himself, Jason didn’t stop him right there. Annoyed as he was, he couldn’t help being a bit curious. Bruce almost never brought up Dick’s life from before coming the Manor. Before Robin.

“Haly, manager and owner of the circus, asked me for a meeting.”

Now, Bruce was many things, but a storyteller he was not. Yet, in his mind’s eye, Jason could easily picture a dusty office set in beaten up trailer and a chubby, old man from the framed photograph he had seen once when he had sneaked into Dick’s room as a teenager. Bruce Wayne the business mogul must have felt out of sorts in there in his pressed Armani suit. That thought almost made Jason laugh.

“He wanted to talk about Dick’s parents, the Graysons.”

Jason snorted. “Yes, I’m aware that was their surname.”

Bruce pointedly ignored his quip. “Haly said they were both quite odd.”

Jason’s eyebrows shot up. “What do you mean?” He set down his cooling tea the console of the Batcomputer, getting curious in spite of himself.

“My words exactly.” An image of a younger Bruce smiling in polite confusion crossed Jason’s mind. “As you know, John Grayson, Dick’s father, was of Romani descent. Apparently, many people assumed his heritage was the reason he chose a career of a travelling circus performer.”

Jason scowled. Even if it wasn’t his place, he still felt oddly defensive about Dick’s father and did not appreciate commentaries like that. He had a hunch Bruce felt the same way.

“Hally himself believed John Grayson navigated towards this kind of lifestyle, because he’d been running away, as if terrified of something.”

Okay, this conversation was getting weirder and weirder. Jason wanted to be annoyed, because I had exactly nothing to do with the subject at hand, but he couldn’t force himself to call Bruce on his bullshit. He was offered a glimpse at Dick’s life, that life before Bruce, and he found it strangely fascinating.

“He said that John Grayson never wanted the circus to stay long in one place, least of all Gotham.” The city where John Grayson would one day fall to his dead. If that was a case of premonition, then oh how utterly morbid. But Bruce was not done talking. “When asked why, he’d say the circus has to always be on the move.” Bruce levelled Jason with a look. “Lest the evil catches up with them.*”

…Damn.

“Evil?” Jason prompted, making air quotation marks. So what if the Bat Cave felt few degrees colder all of sudden, Bruce didn’t need to know that.

Who only shook his head, seemingly as clueless now as he’d been in that circus trailer many years ago. “But it wasn’t John Grayson that Haly really wanted to talk about. It was Mary Grayson, Dick’s mother.”

“Seriously?” He asked, incredulous. John Grayson managed to kinda freak him out from beyond the grave; he could do without knowing how his wife Mary was gonna top that. Seriously, what could she had possibly –.

_The Maya believed cocoa held the power to unlock hidden yearnings and reveal destinies._

Shit.

“According to Haly, her only family was her grandmother. Unfortunately, she passed away when Mary was still a little girl. As an adult, Mary remembered very little of her and that, if Haly can be believed, made her feel lost and uprooted her whole life. Supposedly, she often stared in the distance, as if reaching for something that wasn’t there anymore, Haly’s words not mine.

“Haly also claimed she had confided with him one day. She told him she could vaguely recall her grandmother talking about travelling with the wind, from village to village, while doing something, but what exactly,” Bruce made a long pause “that, for the life of her, Mary could not remember. In the end she jointed a travelling circus and became trapeze artist. In her own words, it made her feel closer to north wind.”

“Bruce,” Jason enunciated slowly, when the silence of the Bat Cave got a tad too difficult to bear, “why are you telling me all of this?” _Instead of answering the actual question,_ though unsaid, hung in the air between them.

And nope, Bruce’s story did not spook Jason one bit. Not at all.

“Again, my words exactly,” Bruce nodded. Jason was sure he was trying to piss him off. “Whatever it was that drove Mary Grayson, Haly was sure her son would feel one day too. So Haly made me promise; once that day comes, I would let Dick go.”

Jason’s frowned deepened. “What are you trying to say?” He had a good idea what it was about and he didn’t like it one bit.

“If you want to have him coming back, like I do, then sometimes you have to let him go.”

* * *

“I see the word of your demise was grossly exaggerated.” That and a barrel of gun pressed to the back of his head was the only welcome Dick should get after six long, agonizing months of absence, especially given the shit he had pulled on everyone halfway through his mission.

Nightwing laughed nervously, caught red-handed on the act of sneaking into one of Red Hood’s safehouses, one foot on the floor, one foot still on the windowsill. “Hi Jay.”

“Don’t you fuckin’ hi Jay me now,” he growled, the barrel of his gun now digging into Nightwing’s skull. Jason wasn’t going to let him turn it into a joke. There was nothing even remotely funny about this.

Nightwing let out a long sight and cautiously raised his hands above his head in a gesture of surrender. “Little Wing.” Jason really didn’t care for endearments right now, but at least Nightwing sounded serious. Good. About time he cut the crap. “I told you not to listen to rumours. I told you I would be back.” 

Oh yeah, he remembered that and good thing that he did, because the moment a word of Nightwing’s passing reached him, only Dick’s cryptic words kept him from setting whole world on fire. Since Dick’s odd promise and blue eyes were Jason’s last sane thought as his world turned _green_ , he set off to hunt down Batman and get him to talk. And Bruce, bless his heart, took one good look at Jason and spilled every single detail of how Nightwing faking his own death had been a vital part of the mission all along. Just like punching Bruce in the face and breaking his nose has all along been a vital part of Jason’s feedback to that hairbrained scheme, expressed in maybe not as many words, but a hell lot of violence.

Just thinking about it made Pit-green swallow edges of his vision.

“I told you I would be back,” Nightwing said softly. Maybe he used to talk like that to wild animals the circus kept, his only friends when growing up. “And look, here I am.”

And yeah, there he was, but that didn’t make the whole thing okay and Jason didn’t want to let it go. He also missed Dick so much it felt like dying; he would know, _he had done that once already_.

Fuck it all to hell and back.

He clicked the safety on and put the gun behind the waistband of his sweatpants.

Nightwing’s hands fell to his sides and he visibly relaxed. He gracefully jumped off the windowsill and swirled around to face Jason.

He immediately reached out and took off his domino mask, then threw it carelessly on the floor. His eyes roamed greedily over Dick’s face. It’s been too long since last saw those beautiful blue eyes.

Under Jason’s heated gaze, Dick’s cheeks were touched with red.

“See?” Dick broke the silence that feel upon them and gave him that sunny smile of his. It was simply unfair what it was doing to Jason. “Safe and sound, and back with you.”

“It’s not over.” Because it wasn’t by any stretch. He might be feeling week in his knees right now, but that didn’t diminish his fury in the slightest.

So help him, Dick had the gall to smile even wider. “I was afraid you would say that,” he half-turned to grab something from the windowsill, “so I brought you hot chocolate.” He offered Jason the paper cup, as if that train of thought made any sense at all.

Jason stared blankly at the proffered cup for few seconds, his mind coming to a halt.

That was it.

That was it, because hot chocolate in relation to Dick now held a special meaning in Jason’s heart, and _what the hell had Dick and Bruce been thinking?!_ , and in relation to Dick chocolate in general took on a meaning deeper that the man himself was probably aware of, and _Jason was so not letting it go_. Also, he was sure that somewhere out there, beyond the grave, Dick’s great-grandmother was talking shit about destinies and ancient Maya were sipping their unrefined cocoa with a pinch of fucking chilli, all smug and laughing at his expense.

His vision bleed with _green_.

“You brought me hot chocolate?!” Jason roared and snatched the cup from Dick’s hand. “A hot fucking chocolate?!” Ignoring an indignant _hey!_ , he threw it at the opposite wall. Dark liquid spilled everywhere. “Unlocks hidden yearnings, huh?! Nothing about my yearnings has been hidden since I was fifteen!”

Dick looked helplessly confused and that pissed Jason off even more. He still didn’t get it, did he? Jason was an honest mob boss, but this was fucking ridiculous.

Jason closed his fingers around Dick’s wrist and pulled him close against his chest. Dick craned up his neck and stared at him, wide-eyed, and yes, his pupils definitely were dilated. Jason tangled his fingers in his hair, leaning down to nuzzle Dick’s temple. He caught a faint scent of his shampoo. He wouldn’t mind, if his bed smelt of Dick next morning, he wouldn’t mind one bit. Dick’s breath hitched at the simple caress and the sound sent a spike of pleasure through Jason.

The moment he felt Dick’s lips, soft and yielding under his own, he knew a simple kiss couldn’t possibly be enough. Not when Dick was finally in his arms, not when he gasped into the kiss and let Jason deepen it. Not when his own body burned with what felt like fire coursing through his veins. Jason wanted to map every inch of Dick’s skin with his lips. He wanted to feel Dick’s legs wrapped around him, hear him breathless, calling Jason’s name.

His hands wandered, intend on exploring every curve of his body, feeling those lean muscles twitch under his fingers. Impatient, he slid them down Dick’s back to grab his butt and squeeze. Pleasure curled low in his belly at Dick’s surprised gasp, followed by a moan, but not to worry, Jason was right there to kiss them off his lips, hard and insistent, unapologetic about his desire.

At some point, Dick put his hand on Jason’s cheek. Caressing it lightly, he tried to soften the kiss and well, Jason could be gentle and considerate lover.

Some other time.

*

That night, Jason held Dick down and kissed his confessions along his golden skin. All Dick could do was to tremble in his embrace and hold on for dear life, as Jason moved in him, drawing moans from his lips. Overtaken by a different kind of _green_ , Jason starred down at Dick, his teal eyes burning, like he wanted to put his mark on his soul.

Trapped underneath him, Dick felt like flying caught on a gust of south wind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *If you squint and look at it from the right angle, I guess you could read it as a reference to the Court of Owls.  
> (But what inspired me, was the title of this book: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flights_(novel) Just saying.)


	4. Chapter 4

For a while it seemed like Jason and Dick would have a life together in Gotham, as happy as it could possibly be.

Not to say their relationship was free of problems and their differences were sorted, because they weren’t. Far from it, in fact. For instance, Dick didn’t approve of Jason’s career of choice. Red Hood’s signature violence and blasé attitude towards the killing of criminals was also a touchy subject between them; if broached, a fight resulting in Dick pointedly ignoring Jason’s very existence for weeks was a guarantee.

There was also the matter of Dick’s apparent inability to just settle down and not jump all over the country. The planet. The outer space. (Jason took conscious effort not to think about the last one, lest he breaks something.) Because, even though Dick might be calling Gotham his home again now that he had got together with Jason, he had yet to refuse a request for his assistance from the Justice League and if asked to coordinate the sidekick’s mission, he would literally drop everything and rush back to their base at Mt Justice. At least he made sure not to stay away for a period longer than four weeks, an unspoken agreement Dick was careful not to break, if only to avoid Red Hood crashing the party and dragging him back home.

Still, things were better than Jason had dared to hope.

Which was precisely why he felt that everything was bound to go south sometime soon. Be it a repeat performance of six months’ worth of absence and faking his own death, or worse, Dick slipping through his fingers and falling from the face of Earth altogether, something was about to happen. If the trauma of dying then being forced back alive taught Jason anything at all, it was that good things always came to an end.

Alfred would scold him for being way too cynical for his age, but Jason didn’t perceive his lack of naivety a bad thing. Au contraire, he believed it an asset. Being the way he was, should the worst case scenario become reality, he wouldn’t be a shocked optimist moaning about how _he had not seen that coming_. No, he would be prepared with a variety of countermeasures in place to ensure things would still go his way.

And they would go his way. When it came to the thing between himself and Dick, he would make damn sure they would.

Universe, or fate, or whatever was out there owed him that much.

* * *

Jason woke up to the feeling of Dick slipping away from his embrace.

It was the dead of night, that odd hour when it was too late for vigilantes to roam the streets, but too early for honest, hard-working folk to wake up. Everything was silent, everything was still. Only Dick moved quietly in the pool of moonlight, putting on Jason’s discarded T-shirt, then turning to stand by the window.

Outside, wind was blowing, swaying the trees.

“Dick?” He called softly, not to startle him. His voice was raspy with sleep, though his mind was already sharp and alert. He had a feeling it was the moment he was waiting for.

Dick didn’t answer. Instead, he moved closer to the window and rested his forehead against the glass. His hair was sleep tousled and a sleeve of the too-big T-shirt was falling of his left arm. Revealed skin was shockingly pale in the moonlight.

Everything about this sight made Jason _want_ , but it would have to wait for another time.

He threw away his blanket and got up. Not bothering with clothes, Jason joined Dick by the window. “Hey,” Jason pulled him into an embrace, Dick’s back against his chest. Leaning down a little, he nosed along his neck and dropped a kiss below Dick’s ear, just where Jason knew he liked it. “What’s the matter?” He had a good idea what was the matter, but he wanted to hear it from Dick.

Dick shuddered at the caress a little, but he didn’t otherwise acknowledge Jason’s presence. He stood still in his arms, eyes glued to the sight of rumbling leaves and swaying trees. “It’s the north wind,” he whispered eventually.

Jason hummed. Exposed skin of Dick’s left shoulder was begging to for his kiss; it was only polite to oblige. “C’mon, baby, let’s get back to bed.”

Since it could not possibly be that easy, he wasn’t surprised in the slightest to see Dick frantically shake his head. “No, the north wind’s blowing.”

“Okay,” Jason easily agreed, ignoring the deeper meaning there, if only to rile Dick up. “Let’s go back to sleep.” His tone didn’t change much, but he put more force behind his words and tightened his embrace around Dick.

Who was getting less distant and cryptic the more frustrated Jason got him. “No, you don’t understand,” he hissed, “the wind –“

“But I do.” He cut in, sleepy, loving Jason from a minute ago suddenly gone. He leaned down to whisper his next words right into Dick’s ear. “I know about your great-grandmother.”

Dick went rigid in his arms. Jason took it as his cue to continue.

“Bruce didn’t think enough of Haly to follow up on his story and you were too busy running around to stop and think about it, but _I_ did my research.” For once, it was Jason who did good and the two of them that screwed up; Jason applauded their A+ detective work with a tip of the helmet, for the lack of a hat, but no, it’s not like he felt smug about it or something. And there would be a better time to rub their fuck-up in sometime later. Right now, he had to enlighten. “Your great-grandmother, she was one of the wanderers. Her people moved with the north wind,” he felt Dick tense up even more at the mention, “and wherever they went, they dispersed their cocoa remedies.

“But Dickie,” he said after a bid of silence, his voice softer now, almost tender, “your mother knew nothing of those remedies. And neither do you.” He gently turned Dick around to face him. He starred up at Jason, wide-eyed. “So why do you still answer the wind’s call?”

Maybe it was his imagination, maybe it was a trick of light, but Dick’s face changed somehow. As if Dick dropped his mask and finally let Jason see the true him. Not Robin, not Nightwing and certainly not Richie Wayne, but Dick Grayson, a circus kid thrust into the unforgiving world of Gotham socialite and a life of vigilante at the age when he should have been playing videogames and complaining about crust on his sandwiches. A man who, though loved by many, would rather call a circus elephant his one true friend than another human being.

Jason loved him so much.

Dick took a deep, calming breath and answered his question. “It speaks to me, it always has.”

Whatever reaction he was expecting to get, it didn’t come. Jason merely nodded, silently asking him to go on, because really, between his father’s _running away from the evil_ and his great-grandmother’s ancient Maya and yearnings, and destinies, Dick’s talking wind could hardly phrase him.

After a moment of hesitation, elaborate Dick did. “You’re right, I don’t know anything about any remedies. But the wind doesn’t speak of them.” Dick hid his face in his shoulder. His breath tickled Jason’s naked skin. “It speaks of…” His voice was hesitant, like he was relying a message he was straining to hear. “Friends in need I have yet to meet. Battles waiting to be fought. So you see, Little Wing,” he looked up and his palms cradled Jason’s face gently. It the faint moonlight, he couldn’t tell the brilliant colour of his eyes, but he could see a distant look in them. His thoughts were already elsewhere, picturing those places the wind spoke of, far away from Gotham. Far away from Jason.

Whatever spell it was that bound Dick to the whims of the north wind, Jason was determined to break it.

“I get it.” He said loudly, just to snap Dick out of his daze. “Look, Dickie,” he rested their foreheads together, “I’m not asking you to never leave Gotham.” Even Jason could tell that request would be unreasonable. Too many people relied on and looked up to Nightwing to accept him limiting his operations to Gotham only. “I’m asking you to never leave _me_ behind.”

Dick blinked owlishly at him.

…He did understand what Jason was getting at, didn’t he? He quickly thought back to the intel he had gathered on Dick’s previous relationships and mentally winced; they could be described as little more than dalliances, fleeting fancies Dick had humoured before north wind called him away. It was because of that call that everything in Dick’s life was temporary and every lover of his came with an expiration date.

But Jason didn’t want to be humoured. He didn’t want just here and now. He wanted forever.

The wind grew stronger outside, as if raising to his challenge.

Dick looked through the window then back at Jason, his brow furrowed and expression torn. “But –“

Jason kissed him. It started soft and gentle, but turned more and more desperate with each slide of their lips. For Jason it wasn’t just an expression of affection but the staking of a claim, a gauntlet thrown against fate, or maybe destiny.

But hadn’t his destiny been revealed already, all those years ago on a rooftop over a cup of cheap hot chocolate?

Once they broke apart, Jason shied away from Dick’s eyes, leaning towards his ear instead. He has confessed countless times already with his lips and impatient fingers on Dick’s flushed skin, but this time he allowed himself to put his feelings into words. At that darkest hour before dawn, his whispers wove a spell of his own around Dick.

And the north wind grew weary.

*

Next morning, Jason woke up to blue skies outside, damn rare sight in Gotham, and Dick still peacefully asleep in his embrace.

A wind from south was blowing, soft and warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s it folks! I hoped you liked it :). I know I had fun writing it.


End file.
